Mellow Tones
by stubadingdong
Summary: The Good Doctor observes some interaction he didn't expect to see. Post-Canamar vignette.


TITLE: Mellow Tones  
  
AUTHOR: stub  
  
RATING: PG  
  
DATE: 3-5-03  
  
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all things Star Trek. I don't.  
  
SUMMARY: The Good Doctor observes some interaction he didn't expect to see. Post-Canamar vignette.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wasn't planning on doing one of these, but the Muse made an impromptu visit to me in the shower of all places. I quickly banged this one out in about ten minutes. I know it's short. The first one that asks for more is gonna get a cyber wet noodle beating. You've been warned.  
  
***  
  
I followed the three ranking officers down to Sickbay. Captain Archer was fuming, ranting the entire way. Commander Tucker was quiet, offering only a nod on occasion. And the Sub-Commander was characteristically silent, keeping an observant eye on her men. Yes, I do believe she has come to think of them as hers. She was fiercely intent on retrieving Archer and Tucker, though Lieutenant Reed was just as tenacious. But T'Pol...well, I do believe she looks *happy.*  
  
Captain Archer and Commander Tucker take seats on opposing bio-beds, waiting for me. Archer is still sharing his opinion with his senior officers. I smile to myself at his indignation, though it is far from a humorous situation. Trouble seems to follow these Humans. They certainly have much to learn about the ways of an non-policed universe.  
  
As I tend to the Captain's wounds, I find it curious that the Commander doesn't add his opinion to the mix. Even the Sub-Commander has nodded and made a comment here and there to pacify the Captain. Tucker keeps his eyes down, his hands still in his lap. Perhaps I should check for a more serious head injury. I see that the Sub-Commander has also taken note of the Commander's unusually quiet disposition. I finally inject Archer with a mild analgesic to alleviate any pain from a headache or the bruises. I nod at him and smile, silently dismissing him. He jumps off the biobed and turns his attention to T'Pol.  
  
"I expect your full report in the morning, Sub-Commander," he says quickly. Archer turns towards the door and takes a few steps. He pauses and turns around. Almost as an after-thought he looks at her and nods. "And thanks for saving our asses. Again," he adds sheepishly. T'Pol merely nods, a nearly imperceptible quirk of an eyebrow indicating a "you're welcome." Archer's eyes drift to Commander Tucker and they nod at each other. And then the Captain turns and stalks out of Sickbay.  
  
Interesting.  
  
I turn my attention back to the Commander, who sits unusually patient for his turn at medical treatment. He and the Sub-Commander silently regard each other, almost cautiously. I bustle my way over to Tucker and dress his wounds. T'Pol stands off to the side, watching. I can see his gaze flicker to her several times. I dare not look at her, though. Whatever is going on is between the two of them. As I witness more and more of this curious behavior, I realize how wrong I was with my initial assessment of sexual tension on this ship. It lies not with Captain Archer and Sub-Commander T'Pol, but rather with the Commander and her. I don't know how I could have missed it before. It's rather obvious. I wonder now just how long they've been engaged in this pre-mating dance of sorts. I surmise that it is possible neither of them realize what they're doing.  
  
His wounds dressed, I amble across the room to prepare a hypo. Though I am out of their view, I can still watch. I am very interested to see what happens. I flick on the monitor for the security camera that Crewman Cutler has affectionately dubbed the 'Sickbay Cam.' I sit at the medical station and watch the two commanders continue to silently eyeball one another. It is the Commander who speaks first.  
  
"Malcolm told me the Trojan Horse idea was yours," he says, trying to sound casual. He avoids eye contact.  
  
"Yes," is all she says. Though she does take a step closer. She is rather striking, for a Vulcan.  
  
"I like that. You'd make a good warrior," he replies. This time he looks at her. He even cracks a small smile at her raised eyebrow.  
  
"Vulcans are not a warrior race," she states haughtily, though her glare melts within seconds.  
  
I smile. So defensive. I rest my chin in my palm, this interaction grows more and more interesting by the second. Commander Tucker must find it as amusing as I do for his smile grows bigger. He is quite an attractive Human.  
  
"It was a good military plan of action," he amends. His smile fades as they gaze at each other. "Thank you," Tucker says quietly, sincerely.  
  
My hypospray forgotten, I watch as T'Pol inches her way to his side. A tentative hand is raised to his face as her fingers lightly dance across the bruise on the side of his mouth. Tucker flinches a bit, but doesn't duck away. His eyes are locked on hers. From where I sit, it appears she is gazing at his mouth, or maybe that bruise she fingers.  
  
Fascinating.  
  
"I'm sorry you were injured," the Sub-Commander says quietly.  
  
"It's not your fault," he replies, his hand creeping down his thigh, growing ever closer to her hip. I sigh. How lovely!  
  
"I did not mean to imply that I was responsible for it," she corrects, her thumb gliding gently across his bottom lip. Commander Tucker smiles, his lips parting slightly.  
  
"I know," he whispers. This time his hand does make contact with her hip. His fingers brush against her. He sits stone still for a moment, seemingly gauging his next course of action. In a bold and courageous leap of faith, I see him suck in a breath and tug her closer to him. He sits there with the Vulcan standing between his knees. Her left hand rests lightly against his jaw, her right one on his shoulder. Tucker's hands lie comfortably on her waist, his thumbs absently sweeping back and forth. Neither says another word, nor do they break eye contact.  
  
Intriguing.  
  
I don't want to interrupt, but I think they'd quite possibly remain in this position all night if I let them. I stand up and flick off the monitor. I make enough noise to alert them to my presence. They've had their moment. I hate to be the one to end it, but duty calls.  
  
I clear my throat and hum a little tune before returning to the biobed. When they come into my line of vision, Sub-Commander T'Pol is now standing at the foot of the bed, where I left her. Commander Tucker is sitting up straight, hands clasped like a school boy in his lap. This time, however, he is smiling.  
  
"Feeling better, Commander?" I ask jovially.  
  
"I'm jus' glad to be home, Doc," he says. "And I'm starvin'."  
  
"Good, good," I say. I inject the analgesic into his neck and turn to T'Pol. "See to it that he gets a hot meal."  
  
She nods and casts a glance at Tucker. He dips his head in an almost shy gesture and looks at me again.  
  
"Make sure you get plenty of sleep, Commander," I add. He nods and slides off the bed. I didn't think it appropriate to have the Sub-Commander see to it that he also get some rest. Though I'm confident after what I just witnessed that he will be well taken care of this evening. I need not order it.  
  
"Thanks, Doc." Commander Tucker offers me a smile and looks at the Vulcan. They silently communicate their intentions of leaving.  
  
They both exit Sickbay, side by side. How symbolic. I do believe that the relations between the Humans and the Vulcans are about to take a giant leap forward.  
  
^FINIS^ 


End file.
